


miss me once in a while

by agentmmayy



Series: FieryMay x MCU Kink Bingo! [16]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coming In Pants, F/M, Lapdance, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, i guess you can call it that, the most conservative porn i have written yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 01:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16822171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmmayy/pseuds/agentmmayy
Summary: After six months apart, Melinda and Hunter can't wait to get to the bedroom.





	miss me once in a while

**Author's Note:**

> even though this is late, it fulfills the 'lapdance' square for the mcu kink bingo. also, big thank you to lazyfish who I could not have written this without <3

Melinda had expected to be found eventually; it was inevitable with the job. 

It had already been nearly six months, and even though Melinda was enjoying living a civilian life, she was itching to get back into the field, something she would never admit. Except maybe to one person. So, when Lance Hunter showed up at her father’s front door, Melinda ignored the hiccup her heart gave at the sight of him and instead pulled him into a headlock. 

It was easier to think after she put the knife down and introduced Hunter to her father. They got on as well as Melinda had imagined, swapping stories about their careers and various ones about Melinda, though Melinda did manage to stop her father from pulling out any more embarrassing photos. 

Hearing Hunter’s voice again has heat pooling low in Melinda’s belly. Quite a few times Melinda finds herself unable to direct her gaze away from his hands or how his lips close around the chopsticks at dinner time. 

Sue her; it’s been a lonely six months. 

Melinda itches to feel Hunter’s hands on her again in places that her own hands couldn’t fully satisfy. If it were up to her, she would have had him the second she pulled him through the door, but instead, Melinda sits, feeling her desire mount with each passing moment. 

Melinda, however, doesn’t get to jump him until later that evening. 

After eating dinner and talking for a while over a few strong drinks, William retires to bed. As soon as the sound of a door shutting upstairs resounds around the house, Melinda is moving. She sets her tumbler down, vaguely hearing it clatter against the coffee table before she’s slinging her leg over Hunter’s lap and straddling him. 

He makes a faint sound of surprise, but it doesn’t hinder how the hand that isn’t holding his glass goes to her thigh. 

Hunter’s palm feels like it’s searing through her jeans and Melinda finds the same heat echoed between her thighs. It's been building up ever since she pulled him through the door earlier, steadily increasing with each word from Hunter’s mouth and every minute of his eyes on her. Melinda should really get a rein on her libido, especially when staying in her dad’s house, but she finds whenever she’s around Hunter, she can’t. 

“Well, hello,” Hunter says. He shifts briefly to set his glass down on the table before sitting back and pulling Melinda closer to him. Hunter’s arms wind around her waist, mirroring Melinda’s as they go around his neck. 

Melinda pauses for a split second, drinking in the fact that Hunter is right there with her. He’s just how she remembers, but his features are sharper and his scruff thicker. The familiar mischievous glint in his eyes is still present, though, as well as a burden that hadn’t been there before. 

The ache in Melinda’s chest finally dissipates. She replies, almost stupidly, “Hi.” 

They move at the same time, not wanting to waste any more after being apart for so long. Even though Hunter had snatched a quick greeting kiss earlier when William’s back was turned, it wasn’t enough. This time, there’s nothing gentle with the way their mouths move together. It’s an insistent press of lips and nipping with teeth that only leaves Melinda craving more. 

Hunter’s mouth opens under Melinda's, and a deep groan slips from his throat. 

He tastes like whiskey and the buried regret Melinda has felt since she walked out of the base. But, she pushes that aside and instead focuses on the scrape of Hunter's scruff against her chin and the familiar feel of his lips against hers.

When they part, Melinda feels her heart give a skip when she leans back enough to look at Hunter. His cheeks are slightly flushed, his lips swollen, and there’s a radiance about him that wasn’t there when she pulled him through the door earlier. Melinda moves in his lap, wanting to get closer to him, but is brought up short when her thigh brushes against Hunter’s groin.

Melinda feels him hardening beneath her. “Already?”

“You know how bloody long it’s been?” Hunter asks. His tone is incredulous. “ _ Six months _ , Mel. Six months with only my hand to keep me company.”

“Poor thing.” Melinda pouts in mock sympathy. Shifting, she moves so she’s putting pressure on the growing bulge between Hunter’s legs. “You could have called me. You’ve known my number for a while now, right?”

Hunter scoffs as if offended by her question. Melinda suspects he knew the number to her burner phone the day after she walked out of the base. “Of course I have,” he says. “But, I wanted to give you space.”

“Six months is a long time.”

“Yeah,” Hunter grumbles. “Tell me about it.”

She does so. “I’ve gotten off nearly every night thinking of you.”

Melinda has a front row seat to see how Hunter’s eyes darken at her words. His entire mood shifts and so do his hands, sliding up from her thighs to her waist. 

“Yeah?” Hunter swallows tightly. “How?”

“Mostly my fingers,” Melinda says, breath hitching as Hunter’s fingers slip under her top. “I imagine they’re yours as I’m fucking myself with them, as I’m playing with my breasts and-”

Hunter’s hands begin to creep up, but Melinda pushes them aside and replaces them with her own, cupping her breasts through her thin shirt. Hunter’s eyes follow her movements, watching as Melinda palms at her breasts, squeezing over the cups of her bra. 

“Just fingers, then?” Hunter asks, tearing his gaze from Melinda’s chest to her face. There’s a fine layer of surprise behind his desire. “You haven’t used any of your toys?”

Melinda moves her hands to Hunter’s shoulders, using him for unnecessary support as she rolls her hips against his. “They’re not the same.”

“Mel-” Hunter begins, his voice strained as Melinda moves over him. “Your dad-”

“He won’t hear.” Melinda scrapes her teeth against Hunter’s neck, enjoying how his breath catches. “But, we’ll have to be quiet.”

The possibility of being caught and the obscenity of what they were doing sends a shiver up Melinda’s spine. She wonders if Hunter is experiencing the same rush of adrenaline at knowing her father could walk in at any moment. It certainly seems so. His hands are tight on her waist and lips hot against her neck, hips relentlessly grinding against Melinda’s. 

“I hope you’re aware we could take this to the bedroom,” Hunter says, nipping at the sensitive skin of Melinda’s jaw. 

“We could,” Melinda agrees. “But what would be the fun in that?”

Hunter’s eyebrows raise as he doesn’t bother to hide his shock. Since he and Melinda had entered a relationship, they had kept nearly all risque behavior in the bedroom and  _ no _ , that one time in the quinjet doesn’t count. 

“Mid life crisis, hmm?” Melinda asks, repeating his words from earlier when they sat outside. 

“ _ Early _ mid-life crisis,” Hunter points out, giving Melinda an exaggerated once over that sends a jolt of heat straight to her clit. “You don’t look a day over thirty-five, dove.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

“Don’t know; it’s gotten me this far.”

Instead of replying, Melinda elects to roll her hips against his. The abrupt contact makes Hunter jerk and the bulge in his jeans to press more insistently against Melinda’s center. Dry humping on a couch is juvenile and pales in comparison of what else they could be doing, but neither Melinda or Hunter could care. It’s close to the contact they both craved the past few months, complete with hands grasping at clothing and hurried kisses that accompany their nearly frenzied movements. 

Sounds of their panting soon fill the space, a stark contrast to the still quiet of the house. It’s the soundtrack for what Melinda expects to be a very fulfilling night. 

“You know,” Hunter begins. “Most people usually have music for this sort of thing.”

“Grinding?”

“The technical term is a lap dance.” 

Hunter’s hands move from Melinda’s waist to her ass, grabbing it as he helps her to roll her hips against his. Melinda leans forward, bracing her arms against Hunter’s shoulders. 

“Is that supposed to help this feel less foolish?” Melinda asks. “We’re dry humping on a couch like teenagers.”

“I don’t hear you protesting, though.”

One of Hunter’s hands shifts down Melinda’s ass, palm cupping her as his fingers trail between her legs. His fingertips press against the seam of Melinda’s jeans, hard enough even through the layers of fabric that she jerks. Her movements cause his fingers to slide against her, putting delicious pressure on the sensitive nerves and skin beneath Melinda's clothes.

Before she can stop it, a moan slips from Melinda's lips, echoing around the living room.

Hunter hushes her quickly by pressing his mouth to hers. Melinda only responds with a louder moan, losing whatever control she had managed to keep hold of as his fingers found the fabric above her clit. “Don’t want your dad to catch us, now.”

The reminder that they weren't alone in the house and the possibility of being caught should have been like a douse of cold water but only fueled Melinda's arousal more. A high whine left her when Hunter's fingers were replaced by his cloth covered cock. “ _ Lance _ .”

“Mel,” Hunter hisses, clearly affected by Melinda’s obvious pleasure. “Fuck,” he groans. “You have to be quiet, love.”

A whimper forms in Melinda’s throat but before it can escape, she leans forward and sinks her teeth into the juncture of Hunter’s neck and shoulder. It’s not nearly hard enough to break the skin, mostly to muffle the steadily increasing sounds Melinda is making, but Hunter’s hips jump under hers. 

It’s exactly what Melinda needs to fall over the edge. 

Her orgasm takes her by surprise and her gasp echoes around the living room. But, at that point, Melinda is too overtaken with pleasure to care. She ruts against Hunter as she draws her orgasm out. Each thrust of Melinda's hips causes her oversensitive clit to drag against the suddenly rough texture of her panties. It’s intense, much more intense than the orgasms Melinda had brought herself to alone over the past few months and she shakes in Hunter’s lap as she comes down.

Melinda’s orgasm triggers Hunter’s. As she comes back to her senses, Melinda recognizes the stifled moans and grunts Hunter always made when he was about to cum. 

Hunter’s hips hump almost frantically against hers before going still. Biting his lip to muffle a groan, Hunter’s head tilts back onto the couch as his eyes pinch close. Melinda can only watch, enraptured, as Hunter comes. Her memories are nothing compared to the sight, and very quickly, Melinda feels the heat in her lower belly begin to build up once more. 

But, before she can work towards another orgasm, she’s still dealing with the aftershocks of the first one and reeling with the pleasant absurdity of the whole situation. 

Hunter raises his head back up from the couch, licking his lips. There’s a stunned expression on his face, as if he hadn’t expected his orgasm so quickly. 

Time seems to halt as he and Melinda stare at each other, processing what exactly happened and trying to catch their breath. 

They both freeze as the door upstairs opens. Melinda’s heartbeat fills her ears, almost too loud to hear another door open and close. Any moment she anticipates hearing footsteps walk down the stairs, but they never do. After a few seconds, a toilet flushes and William retreats to his room. 

For a few moments more, neither Melinda or Hunter move. 

Even their breathing seems too noisy in the returning silence of the house. Melinda has to hold back a startled laugh at the fact that they hadn’t been caught. The adrenaline is exhilarating, but the aftermath of humping each other on the couch is less so. Melinda grimaces as her wet panties rub against her sensitive skin. 

“I hate to break this up,” Hunter suddenly says, “but the downstairs is getting quite uncomfortable.” He shifts, wincing at the rapidly cooling stickiness beneath his jeans. “I can’t believe I just came on your dad’s couch.”

“Come on.” Melinda stands from his lap, pulling at her jeans uncomfortably and adjusting her top so that her bra is no longer peeking out. When she turns back to Hunter, her breath catches at the hungry gleam in his eyes. 

“Oh, I’m sure I will be coming.” 

Melinda rolls her eyes and before she can change her mind, reaches her hand out to Hunter as he stands from the couch. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it and instead places his hand in Melinda’s, twining their fingers together in a familiar move that has an uncharacteristic blush rising on her cheeks. 

With her arousal momentarily quelled, Melinda finally brings her other feelings back up to the surface. 

The past six months she spent alone or visiting with her parents was enjoyable, but lonely in more ways than one. There were no snide remarks at her side or brown eyes that seemed to glow in sunlight. It was strange sleeping alone, and Melinda constantly found herself lying awake at night, craving the feel of an arm slung across her waist. Most mornings she had woken up to find herself hugging a pillow as if it could compare to having Hunter in bed with her. 

Nothing had felt the same; Melinda’s entire routine was skewed. She couldn’t even count the times or the hours she sat and stared at the burner phone in her hands. 

It was dangerous to get so attached, to fall so deeply, but Melinda couldn’t stop herself. 

Glancing up, she stares right into brown eyes. A smile flickers onto Hunter’s lips, a soft one only reserved for her and Melinda is gone, gone, gone. Quietly, she admits, “I missed you.”

Melinda is privileged to see the ever-present guards Hunter puts up, come down. He squeezes her hand, and just that contact is enough for the ache of absence in Melinda to stop. This was right; this was home. “I missed you too.”

Together they creep up the stairs, forgoing their professional training in favor of stumbling to the guest bedroom like a couple drunk in love. It’s carefree enough to have Melinda grinning against Hunter’s mouth but low enough so that her father remains undisturbed. Their laughs are muffled by unhurried presses of lips and hands more preoccupied with reaching beneath clothes to grab for the doorknob. 

Somehow, they get the door open. Melinda and Hunter stagger into the guest bedroom with a renewed purpose, both intent on showing the other just how much they were missed. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! :)


End file.
